No Man Or, Looking Glass
by stfoosa
Summary: The looking glass in her bedroom had always eluded Alice. Slight Hatter/Alice. Burton-Verse


The looking glass hung above the mantle in the bedroom like a giant window. So much so, that even twenty two year-old Alice Kingsley believe that if she were to lean against it, then she would tumble through almost exactly as she tumbled down the rabbit hole some two years previously. Sometimes, if she was feeling particularly adventurous and, some would say, imaginative, she could swear that she could glimpse a shock of erratic orange hair, and perhaps a deep purple-black top hat in the mere. It is true, that it could be the plain fact that she did miss Hatter that she did so wish to catch the image of him in her mirror.

It wasn't until one night arrived when she realised just how much of a doorway the looking glass was. One night, just as she was drifting into a deep sleep, a sharp, hissed sound of 'Psst.' Came from the general direction of the mirror. Alice sat up with a start; first thoughts that it was a small noise created by some ash, or charcoal, shifting in the fireplace, but when it sounded again, a clear 'Psst.' Sound, she was almost certain it came from the mirror. Especially so, seeing as there was a pale, green-eyed face peering at her, attached to a head which was equally fastened to a pair of shoulders that appeared to partially fade into the glass of the looking glass.  
"Alice?"  
"…Hatter?" Alice perceived that she must have been a considerable amount more tired than she had first thought. It was bad enough to admit that she felt affection for the mad-man, but to see his head and shoulders protruding from her bedroom mirror was completely absurd! One just does not see these things when in their right minds but, as her father had rightly told her as a child, some of the best people are mad. Hatter included, she muses.  
"It _is_ you! I knew it. I told the March Hare, I did; I told him that you were the right Alice." A toothy grin spreads across his face, and two arms join the head and shoulders jutting out of the looking glass to push the obviously imaginary vision of the Hatter through the now liquid-looking glass, only to have him topple out completely with an outrageous thud. What Alice did not expect, however, was dear Margaret to knock upon her chamber door not two moments later, enquiring about her safety.  
"Alice? My dearest, I heard the most terrible thudding sound… are you quite alright?" the poor girl who owned the bedroom, looked almost panicked as she furtively swapped her gaze between the dishevelled looking Hatter sprawled rather unceremoniously on her carpet, and the door which Margaret was currently behind.  
"Uh, yes, Margaret, I just… fell out of my bed! Do not worry, I am quite alright!" a slight pause worries Alice for a split second, the possibility that Margaret would not have believed her flitting across her mind.  
"Well, if you're sure, dear…" relief.  
"Yes, yes, quite sure!" receding footsteps, and Alice sighs, once more looking at the Hatter now sitting cross legged on her floor, and drinking tea from an ornate cup that she could have sworn he did not have a moment ago. The two watched each other for a few seconds; Hatter regarding Alice peacefully over his cup, quite unusual for his character, she noted inwardly, and Alice partially frowning at him.  
"I never knew the mirror did that…" she remarks, and he sets the cup down upon the deep blue carpeting, grinning inanely at her.  
"Oh, neither did we, but then we passed by it, and I knew I saw your hair and blue dress through it. Hare said it was impossible, that only the rabbit hole and Jabberwocky blood would get us to you, and I said that he was speaking far too sensibly, and he said-," Hatter stops, abruptly, as Alice sits before him, picking up the teacup he had brought with him, and examining it.  
"What a peculiar cup; I supposed you must at least have some sort of crack after you fell in such a brash manner, but… it is completely unscathed!" the blonde woman exclaims, and Hatter grins once more; his bow tie rising with the corners of his mouth, and his eyes glinting in their reptile-green hue.

"Nothing is _un_peculiar, Alice, I would have thought you would know that, of all things!" He expels, at such a volume that poor Alice hastens to shush him, to avoid having to explain to Margaret why on earth a man's voice could be heard coming from her chambers; especially in the dark hours of the night. Such a scandalous idea would turn Margaret purple. The idea alone sends Alice into a quiet fit of giggles, and Hatter wastes no time before joining in, even though the joke is unknown to him.

"I do apologise for such a late visit, Alice, but I felt that I simply had to see you. Quite confusing, I do admit, but… most things are when madness infests the brain!" his voice is still loud, but a loud whisper so it is really at the usual volume, just supposed to seem quiet in comparison. Alice reaches out to him, but, realising that she still held the teacup in her hand, thought twice about it and instead set it down on the carpet, beginning an awkward silence on her part. She didn't suppose Hatter would know an awkward silence if it stole his hat and painted it green.  
Alice could feel the heat of embarrassment rising to her pale cheeks, and she is sure that Hatter notices, but he just sits, smiling, on her bedroom floor.  
"Did you not wish to see _me_?" the smile has gone from Hatter's face, and this in turn causes a frown to breeze over Alice's.  
"Of course I did!" she protests, and is unable to stop the added words, "You were the main reason I found it so hard to leave Underland, anyway." No sooner have the words left her mouth, that she regrets them; she was being most unreasonable, and saying such things would probably cause her dear Hatter to vanish back through the looking glass, so that she could never see him again, even if she wished it with all her heart.  
"I think my madness may have been contagious, Alice," he whispers, smile no longer reaching his eyes. The girl, nay woman, opposite the Hatter averts her eyes to the blue carpet, and her fingers find the teacup once more, the disappointment aching her to the very core.  
"I suppose, though, that… It's a sort-of madness all on its own, really…" the eccentric hat-maker whispers, and gently takes her twitching fingers from the cup, twirling them, and then tenderly holding them. It was bizarre, yet oh-so normal and, although Alice knew it was not something that Hatter was at all used to, she was aware that he was an extreme amount better than any man on Earth. For Alice knew that no man is better than a mad-man.


End file.
